


Renatus

by JellyfishWeeb100



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Psychotic Episodes, Resurrection, dark themes, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-07-24 21:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyfishWeeb100/pseuds/JellyfishWeeb100
Summary: After living centuries filled with chaos and hurt, Loki deserves this single scrap of happiness he's managed to find for himself.The Norns be damned, he will rip that happiness straight from the cold clutches of Hel himself, if he must.





	1. I

Throughout the history of mankind, though powers shift between hands and cultures develop and die, certain societal pieces remain a constant cornerstone. Mythology is one of those constants; humans have a knack for weaving intricate tales, dreaming of the impossible to entertain their short lives.

Being a god himself, Loki has many centuries behind him, filled with stories - real ones - that would make human mythology pale in comparison. Among those years gone by, he recounts periods of his life much like chapters in a book.

He’s a perceptive being, his magic making him privy to certain secrets and whispers the world around him holds. Things no man should know, lest he grow slowly insane with the sensory onslaught. He supposes he has his mother to thank for that - Frigga Allmother, seer of the cosmos with foresight second only to Heimdall, the keeper of all knowledge himself.

He feels things he knows he probably should not - the way reality bends and dips with magical influence, the whispering of grass in the distance when he really listens. With every new chapter in his long life, he feels that sort of click. A shifting of the tide, a crease in the fabric of reality. Just as quickly, the sense fades and he knows something is about to change.

He felt that shift once more, when he stumbled quite literally into a certain someone’s path.

In another attempt at working the earthly contraption in his hands - _a cellphone_ , he noted bitterly, _is an awfully archaic form of communication technology_ \- he rounded one of the many corridors in Stark’s labs without glancing up, and collided with another body coming around the corner.

The stack of paper cups balanced in her arms went down with her in a tremendous splash, leaving her once-immaculate outfit covered in coffee. Loki almost dropped the device in his hands in his panic to help her up, expecting her ire after knocking her down. Instead, to his surprise, apologies immediately began pouring from her lips.

After reassuring her twice that his suit hadn’t been ruined by her spilled drinks, he helped her to her feet and met her eyes for the first time during the whole exchange.

And, there it was. The floor that had felt perfectly solid only a second before, now felt as if it shivered with invisible power; a breeze moved stray hairs across the bridge of his nose. As always, the rush was gone as quickly as it had come and his new acquaintance seemed oblivious to it all.

A woman, young and spry with a sort of pride in her posture stood before him. She dressed simply, yet elegantly in monochrome colors, making the red she painted her lips with stand out in contrast. The morning light filtering through the windows cast a bright glow on her skin, and-

She stared at him. Oh, she asked him a question, hadn’t she? Heat crept up his neck and he sheepishly asked her to repeat herself.

Upon hearing her laugh, he made a mental note that the norns must be cruel and terrible creatures, hellbent on tormenting him. It was light and soft, filling him with warmth like a summer’s day. The sound of it alone was enough to make his own lips quirk up in a smile. He was in trouble, indeed.

She asked him again, trying valiantly to wipe the coffee off her blouse, if he was alright.

He managed a stiff nod and apologized once more for running into her, before continuing his trek down the hall, much quicker now than before.

Throughout the day, he tried to ignore the memory of the encounter as he picked away at his work, but he knew it was futile. A new period in his life had begun and, somehow, a mere mortal woman was at the center of it.

  
Loki learned quickly that his attempts at avoiding the woman would be in vain.

She was a newly recruited agent, but skilled enough to quickly rise through the ranks and find herself a place among the top. He often spotted her in the company of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers alike, sometimes assisting with research and occasionally joining as back-up on missions.

Eventually, he even learned her name: Eve. For whatever reason, it didn’t click very well on his tongue and he found himself forgetting it often. Over time, he’d developed little nicknames for her in his mind, and he found himself stuck with those, even after learning her real name. _Hyrrokkin_ was one of his favorites, which he’d assigned her for the fire in her eyes.

One evening, he followed the sound of conversation into the main lounge, only to find her sharing a drink and chatting amicably with his own _brother_. The scene left him standing speechless - something he did not experience often.

In the month since what had become known as “the coffee incident” in his mind, he’d hardly spoken to the woman. He observed her from afar, concocting a sort of character of her in his mind simply based off of her interactions with others. Now, to see her in what had become something of a temporary home to him, sharing stories with his brother, it felt as if two of his worlds were violently colliding before his very eyes.

He wouldn’t be stunned to silence for too long; Thor spotted his form in the doorway and waved him over. He began to introduce his company, but the woman was quicker.

“Oh, we’ve met before.”

There was a conspiratorial spark in her eye, and she graced him with a smirk. Loki’s mouth suddenly went dry and he faltered before returning the expression with a smile of his own.

As he recounted the story of their meeting to his brother, he watched Thor’s golden brows knit in horror. He rushed to apologize for his brother’s behavior - something he did often nowadays, which absolutely vexed Loki to no end - but Eve’s grin only grew. She laughed it off and reassured him that there were no hard feelings, and Thor relaxed.

After being passed a drink, Loki decided it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a while and become acquainted with the woman who had, unbeknownst to her, been at the forefront of his mind for a month. He learned she was easy to talk to - being both quick-witted and a good listener - and he hardly noticed the sky darkening outside as they spoke for hours.

Occasionally, Thor would send him a warm, secretive sort of smile, and Loki got the impression he knew something he didn’t.

He remembers the day she asked him on a real, formal date in perfect clarity. It was raining, and everyone in their good sense stayed inside the compound. Even so, things were quiet. No super soldiers bickering over the television channel, no genius-playboy-philanthropists blaring music in the common area. Everyone seemed to be keeping to themselves, and Loki took the opportunity to read in the lounge.

He was nearly lulled to sleep by the storm outside, when the door burst open. He momentarily wondered if an immortal being like himself could in fact die of a heart attack, but his thoughts quieted at the sight before him.

There she was - the woman who had quickly become one of his closest friends over the last few months - sopping wet and dripping a puddle at her feet. Her cheeks and nose were flushed from the cold and strands of hair clung to her cheeks. Despite looking nearly drowned, her eyes were alight like embers and she was grinning.

It was one of the few times in his many centuries Loki truly felt smitten, and all he could do was stare for what felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, and very loudly, she proclaimed, “It’s raining!”

Loki spluttered for a response as she crossed the threshold to stare out the large expanse of windows along the wall.

“I- er, yes, it is.”

“Are you watching it?”

Her grin seemed almost big enough to take over her face. She glanced back at him expectantly.

He set his book aside and stood from the couch, walking the few paces to stand beside her. He looked out at the sky she was now fervently pointing at, and suddenly her excitement made sense. The clouds, though dark and oppressive, were casting a golden glow with the setting sun. The rain was coming down in huge sheets, flooding the grassy lawn of the compound, and a stroke of lightning cast everything in purple light before disappearing in a roar of thunder.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

He looked back at his friend, her wet cheeks glowing in the golden light, lips flush from exertion. Belatedly, it occurred to him that she must have been caught in the storm and her first thought was to run back inside and show him this marvelous sight.

“Yes,” he breathed. “It is.”

She turned and met his stare. Caught. She didn’t shrink away, though, and her expression warmed.

“Get dinner with me.”

“I- what?”

“Unless... you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, I-” norns, where was his silver tongue now when he needed it? “I meant, I would love to.”

She smiled wide enough to show teeth and grasped his hand, dragging him back through the door she’d come in from.

“The storm’s even prettier up close, come on!”

He chuckled and gave a half-hearted excuse about ruining his clothes standing out in the rain, but his words really held no weight. She could probably ask anything of him right that second and he’d grant it without question.

“You may get wet, but you’ll feel so _alive_ doing it.”

Of course, she was right. As he stood out in the pouring summer storm, watching her splash around and laugh like a child, the most carefree he had ever seen her, he really did feel alive.

Dinner was a disaster.

Or, at least, it started that way. Loki had taken a cab to Eve's apartment at her request, claiming she could cook the best stir fry in all of New York. He wasn’t entirely sure what stir fry entailed, but she had a way of making anything sound enticing, really.

He was immediately taken back at the modest nature of her home. The red bricks of the building looked about ready to crumble under a strong wind, and the street was dark and dirty. Her entrance was shrouded in blackness, the singular streetlight on the block not reaching far enough to illuminate her doorstep. A short, chain link fence surrounded her patio and looked in dire need of maintenance, with large holes broken through the metal wire. He steeled himself as he knocked on the door, entirely prepared for a stranger to greet him and inform him he had the wrong address.

However, the door swung open and there she was, beaming at him and dressed in an apron. Her house was well-lit and inviting, and the rich scent of soy sauce met his senses. She tugged him inside after sending an asserting glance down the street and secured numerous deadbolts on the door, reminding him once more that she was, in fact, a trained agent when she wasn’t all smiles and sweet words.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” Eve chuckled, returning to the stove to attend her dish.

Loki sauntered into the sitting room adjacent to the entrance, examining the ancient (but comfortable-looking) furniture and the shelves of books lining the walls. There were a few photos of her family on display, and he felt his face light up when he spotted a framed polaroid of the two of them. They had accidentally worn matching sweaters one spring morning, and she had insisting on documenting it for memorabilia’s sake.

“Darling, I’m always fashionably late.”

She gave a surprised chuckle, her cheeks turning a charming shade of pink at the pet name. He wandered back over to the kitchen, watching her stir a steaming pan of vegetables.

“Besides, I wanted to pick these up on my way.” He offered her a simple bundle of flowers, using an illusion charm to hide the way they’d been crushed on the car ride over.

Her eyes went wide and she set aside her spoon to accept the gift. “Oh, Loki. This is so sweet, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I thought it’d be appropriate. You are making me dinner after all.”

She smiled and went to fetch a vase from a cabinet at the far-end of the kitchen. The cabinet was tall, and even standing on her tip-toes, she was struggling to even brush her fingers over the receptacle.

He watched her struggle for a moment more before springing into action. Just as he reached her, she grasped the lip of the vase and gave a triumphant cry. But, not a second later, she lost her balance and stumbled backwards. Loki managed to catch her by the armpits before she hit the ground, but the vase couldn’t be saved; it shattered against the tile floor, sending bits of glass everywhere.

“Are you alright?” He asked after righting her on her feet, just barely keeping himself from laughing.

She must have caught onto his amusement still, because she sent him a stern look that did nothing to hide the mirth in her own eyes.

“Come on, it’s not funny! That was my favorite vase!” She said, while laughing.

“Why was it on the top shelf then? I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner with those short legs of yours-”

“You take that back!”

Their rancorless argument was suddenly put on hold as a sharp screeching filled the air. Loki jolted at the noise, immediately turning to search out any threat in the house.

His date, however, gasped and raced back over to the stove. She grabbed a dishrag from the counter and began waving it over the pan which was now billowing smoke.

“Shit! Fuck! Sorry, I forgot to turn the heat off. Oh god, this is so ruined.”

She looked about ready to burst into tears over her burned dish, and Loki had some words of reassurance on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly, the whole pot was up in flames.

She cried out and jerked away from the stove, rushing to grab something from the pantry. He thinks he heard the word “extinguisher” amidst her slew of profanities, but he had a quicker solution in mind.

With a flick of his wrist, the vegetable stir fry was engulfed in ice, effectively putting out the flames. The smoke was still a pressing issue, though, and he reached over the sink to crack a window. Soon, the awful shrieking noise stopped and the kitchen had cleared some.

“Fuck, I can’t find my-” she stopped in her tracks as she reentered the kitchen, looking between him and the frozen pan. “You… uh… magic?”

He nodded, a smirk curling his lips. “Seems you’re indebted to me now, seeing as I saved your entire complex from burning to the ground.”

She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated laugh. “Don’t be dramatic, it was only a little stove fire. Although, we definitely can’t eat that now,” she gestured to the wrecked meal. “Whaddya say we order a pizza? I’ll let you pick the toppings as repayment for you saving my life and all.”

“I suppose I can work with that.”

Thirty minutes later, they were curled up on the couch in the sitting room, eating pizza and exchanging stories from their day. As the conversation began to lull, a sudden realization came to Loki and a grin split his face.

“What? What’s so funny?” Eve poked at him with her foot, taking a sip of her beer.

“Nothing, really… it’s just, when I first met you, I didn’t know your name. I started calling you _Hyyrokkin_ in my mind for that fiery look in your eyes. I think the nickname fits a lot better now, given you nearly set the kitchen aflame.”

She bursts into laughter. “Rude!”

“Maybe so, but it’s true. You just seem to have a _flaming_ personality, dear.”

She jabs his arm, “You did not just make a pun that bad on our first date, you are the worst!”

Loki can’t help but join her in her raucous laughter. It seems all his practice in word play would pay off, as he quickly comes up with more terrible jokes to berate her with for the rest of the evening.

  
It’s difficult for Loki to pinpoint the exact moment he began falling for Eve.

Perhaps it was in the very beginning, from the moment they met. Perhaps it was during their first conversation - the night they spoke for hours on end about their personal lives in a way he’d never experienced with any of the other Avengers. The small moments between them slowly kindled something inside of him, burning hotter and hotter everyday.

One morning, after waking up with his arms draped around her, sunlight streaming in through the blinds, the realization struck him.

He had no place to hurry off to that morning, no meetings or urgent mission calls, so he laid there and simply drank in the sight of her in his arms. The way her eyelashes fluttered with every breath, the flush of color dusting her shoulders, the bow of her clavicle. With her body pressed against his, it suddenly struck him how perfectly she molded into his arms, like a puzzle piece he’d been missing during the span of his whole, long life.

And, just like that, those embers which had been sparking and heating in his heart were suddenly flaming with an intensity he didn’t know was possible. All at once, he was in love in with her.

His first instinct was to hide, as he always had before when faced with challenging emotions. It may be cowardly, but it had always protected him from hurt. So, being as quiet as possible, he detached himself from her and gathered his clothes strewn about the room. By the time he’d redressed and slipped out the door, she hadn’t even stirred.

Guilt followed him like thick fog all the way back to the compound. He made it to his rooms unnoticed and took a shower, hoping to clear his head. Even after scrubbing himself raw and combing through his hair, the fog was still stuck to him.

His cellphone rang on the counter beside him. Eve’s number flashed on the screen. He let the phone ring.

He pictured her waking up in her apartment, the space beside her gone cold in his absence. He imagined her searching the house for him before calling. He’d ignore her and she’d probably figure he was called away for something. She’d be disappointed, but understanding and kind, as she always was with him.

The fog threatened to strangle him as he watched the call go to voicemail.

He tried valiantly to ignore her for a while, after that. When she was on a mission, he stayed at the tower. When he knew she’d be coming home, he’d request a mission to keep him away.

Eventually, she stopped calling. Thor, who was the closest mutual friend between them, could only offer Loki a disappointed expression when they crossed paths.

It hurt. It hurt so badly, but he continued to tell himself that this was for the best. Eve couldn’t possibly love him back - how could she? She held his heart in her clutches and she could hurt him with it if she knew that. No, this was for the best.

Eve would be on another mission that week - somewhere on the west coast - so, Loki decided to venture from his room for the first time in what felt like ages. It wasn’t as if he saw her much now anyway. When she wasn’t out of the state, she was holed up in her apartment. Still, Loki didn’t like to take unnecessary risk by wandering around the compound in case she decided to visit.

He passed the lounge, making a beeline for the coffeemaker in the kitchen. Behind him, someone cleared their throat and he stopped cold in his tracks.

Although he was trying to appear nonchalant, he could feel the color drain from his face as he turned around. Eve stood in the center of the sitting room, crossing her arms over her chest.

She looked… tired. Her skin had lost some of its youthful glow, and her eyes were set in sunken, purple rings. She wore her typical combat outfit, but now it seemed to bag in areas where she’d lost weight. The guilt Loki had been managing to shove down for a while seemed to suddenly crash over him in waves.

“Mind if we have a little chat?”

Her voice came cold and detached, a far cry from the playfulness it always held before. He found himself nodding stiffly and carrying his coffee over to the lounge. He wasn’t in the mood to drink it anymore, but he wanted something to do with his hands to hide the way they were shaking.

She sat on one of the chairs, perching herself on the edge and tensing her shoulders as if ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Maybe she was; it seemed apparent now that in only a short time, Loki had made himself something of a threat to her. The thought made his stomach turn.

He opened his lips to apologize for everything, but couldn’t seem to voice any of the thoughts racing through his brain. Eve watched him struggle, a sadness replacing the wall behind her eyes. She sighed and dropped her gaze to her hands.

“I spoke with Fury this morning. He agreed to dispatch me to the SHIELD base in London, so… you don’t have to keep sneaking around to avoid me. I’ll be out of your hair by next week.”

Loki nearly dropped the mug in his hands. “You… what? You’re leaving?”

She nodded, fiddling with a zipper pocket on her pants. “Look, I don’t know what I did, but I think things will be easier if I just leave-”

“Please, stay.” Loki cut in, immediately cringing at how weak he sounded. “Norns… I’m so sorry, I never meant to make you feel like you needed to leave.”

Her eyes narrowed and that fire he once adored in her gaze was now directed at him. It was almost intense enough to make him shrink back from her.

“Didn’t you?” She spat. “How did you think it would make me feel, spending all that time with me just to get into my pants and then cutting loose the second I get too clingy-”

“Of course that wasn’t the reason!” He’s completely aghast. Not once did he stop to consider that she’d interpret his sudden rejection in that way. Why- why didn’t he consider that?

The walls she’d carefully crafted around herself began to crumble and she furiously wiped the tears spilling down her cheeks. He watched her, feeling for all the world like his heart would shatter right then and there.

“Then _what_? What did I do to make you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you at all!” He sucked in a deep breath, trying to still his frayed nerves. He abandoned the mug in favor of running his hands through his hair. “I left because I was scared, alright? I know it’s pathetic, but I didn’t know how to tell you that I love you.” He trembled as the words left him, wishing he could curl up tight enough to disappear.

Her sobbing had quieted some, and when he met her gaze again, her brow was knitted with confusion.

“You fucking idiot,” she whispered. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and sat silently for a moment, drawing in shaky breaths.

Eventually, she unfolded herself and stood up. Loki’s heart sank as he watched her, thinking she might be leaving - not that he’d blame her. Instead, she crossed the room and deposited herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She pulled him into a kiss, and Loki sighed against her lips, his relief palpable. Though it started soft and chaste, he dragged her in deeper, desperation for her touch clouding his thoughts. He missed this so much.

She pulled away from his lips to breathe, but didn’t stray far. She pressed her face in his neck, her tears still streaming and soaking up in his shirt.

“Loki, you’re an absolute idiot.”

“I deserve that,” he murmured, a hint of a smile on his face for the first time in weeks. “But...?”

“But… I love you too. And you better not do that to me ever again.”

Her words sobered him and he nodded, running his fingers through her hair. “I promise.”

“Good.” She sent him a wry smile of her own. “Now I think you’d better take me somewhere more private - we’ve got some catching up to do and I have to report for my mission in an hour.”

He grinned. “I think I can manage something.”

Things were easy, after that. Once his feelings were out in the open, Loki found himself freely reminding Eve how much he loved her. After everything he put her through, he vowed never to let her forget it.

He loved her in the kitchen of her apartment, scrambling eggs and salsa for breakfast, singing to herself because she didn’t realize he was watching.

He loved her in the study, as she read aloud her report papers to him. They were terribly boring and routine, but listening to her voice filled him with warmth.

He loved her as she patched him up after battle, spilling disinfectant over his wounds a little more harshly than necessary because she was so upset he let himself get hurt in the first place.

He loved her as she carved out a space in her apartment for him to reside. She took him to a hardware store to pick colors to paint his room with, insisting that she wanted him to feel at home there, too.

He loved her as they poured over a thick binder the wedding planner provided to them. They were supposed to be choosing their colors and invitation design before meeting with the woman again tomorrow, but it seemed like they couldn’t stop fooling around and stealing kisses instead.

He loved her when she left for yet another mission one morning, and when he voiced as such to her, she pulled him close and kissed him. She smiled against his lips when she told him she loved him too.

Then, she was off. She wouldn’t be back for three days, so Loki was left to his own devices. He had been promising for months now to repair the chain link fence around the patio, so he set about doing just that.

He made quick work digging out the old, deteriorated one and staking in the new. Dusk had fallen by the time he was finished and packing away the tools (though, he’d cheated a bit with his magic for most of the work, and the tools remained in relatively the same place he’d left them). He stood back to admire his handiwork, but some anxiety kept him from feeling any real pride. He was fidgeting.

Figuring his mind just needed something else to focus on, he set to organizing the study. He righted every book and picked up every misplaced paper. He wiped an ink spill off the desk, one which neither of them had cared to clean up and had dried and stuck in place.

Soon, there wasn’t anything left to organize, but the fidgeting persisted. It was silly - he really shouldn’t be so worried. Eve and himself are both away on dangerous missions all the time, and he knows she can handle herself well.

Still, something picked away at him. Eventually, he retired for the night, figuring he’d do better sleeping off some of this anxiety.

Sleep came fitfully. He gave up completely around sunrise, instead staring at her empty space in the bed.

He must have fallen asleep eventually because he woke up again, this time around mid-morning, with heavy grogginess in his limbs.

Something was wrong. He knew it the second he opened his eyes. He sat up straight immediately and stalked out to the kitchen, his fingers twitching restlessly for his phone.

He found it on the counter and selected Eve’s contact, holding the phone to his ear as it rang. And rang. And rang.

Of course, she hardly answers when she’s on a mission anyway. But something about it this time felt particularly terrible. The ground beneath him swayed, and his stomach lurched.

There’s that bending of reality again, so intense and sudden that he has to sit down for fear that he’ll faint.

A new chapter.

 _No_ , he thinks, _no, that can’t be it. I’m getting worked up over nothing and scaring myself._

But, he can’t just stay like this, filled with worry until she returns. He needed some reassurance, even if he was just imagining things. He stood up and changed into something presentable, and was out hailing a cab on the street in only a few minutes.

The ride to the compound was a long one. The cab driver tried to make small talk along the way, but Loki was too distracted to respond.

They finally arrived, and Loki made his way through security, feeling as stiff as a board. He took the elevator up to the main floor, determined to find someone with useful information along the way.

The building was eerily quiet, which only served to worsen to addled thoughts. He stepped out into the lounge, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Thor, Tony and Natasha, all sitting in silence and looking thoroughly defeated.

Natasha spotted him first. Her cheeks were smeared with soot, and a trail of blood had crusted to her face from a cut along her hairline. The second she met his eyes, she looked away again. She stood up to leave, nodding in his direction to make her teammates aware of his presence.

The second Thor saw him there, his face fell. He stood from the couch, sighing from somewhere deep in his chest as he made his way towards him. Tony reacted similarly to Natasha, cursing under his breath as he left the room, heading off towards the bar.

“What happened? Where is she?” Loki blurted out, his eyes frantically searching Thor’s face.

_Please. Please let me be wrong about this. Please don’t take this away from me._

Thor raised a hand to touch his shoulder, but thought better of it, letting it hang at his side awkwardly. He looked to be in a similar state as the others, ash and gore covering his armor in a morbid mosaic.

He seemed to remember something, then, and fished around in the pocket of his pants. He carefully produced the object he was searching for and pressed it into Loki’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, brother.”

Loki uncurled his fingers, and staring back at him from his palm, was a gold engagement band, topped with an emerald stone.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:
> 
> The story is just gonna get angstier from here friends, so tread carefully. This chapter contains mentions of depression, grieving, and some unhealthy coping mechanisms.

The mission was supposed to be easy. 

The organization SHIELD was investigating was believed to be recreating alien tech, with plans for destruction on every major city in the country. They weren’t very far along in their research yet, and as soon as the team caught wind of it, they planned on nipping it in the bud. 

The plan was for Eve to sneak in, retrieve as much information as possible and get out, while the others would cause some destruction and serve as a distraction. A simple heist. 

They hadn’t accounted for any self-destruction measures that could be planted in the warehouse.

Thor relayed all the details to Loki in a cold, measured voice until all at once, his defenses fell away. He started weeping openly, hunching forward in his seat to hide his face in his hands.

_I was supposed to protect her,_ he cried. _I told her I would protect her._

There wasn’t much left of Eve’s body to bury. The explosion that claimed her life left only pieces behind. Her engagement band was about all the team could salvage, and Loki hadn’t let it leave his sight since.

He stared at the ring, the memory of the night he’d given it to Eve swimming through his vision. 

They’d finally managed to leave Tony’s New Year’s party and were exchanging sloppy kisses on the living room sofa. They were both utterly wasted, making for a very clumsy make-out session. 

She straddled his lap and tried to work the zipper on her dress, but lost her balance in the process. Loki barely managed to catch her before she could fall off the couch in his own inebriated state. He tried to find her lips again anyways, but she was laughing too hard for them to catch.

Even though he was desperate to touch her, he couldn’t help being distracted by the sound and a smile split his face.

“What’s so funny?”

She could barely breathe long enough to explain herself, dissolving into giggles the second she opened her mouth to speak. Eventually, she managed to say, “we’re, like, such a mess.”

He broke into laughter along with her, their situation finally catching up with him. “We probably gave that cab driver quite a show, huh?”

His words probably would have made her turn scarlet under normal circumstances, but for now she only grinned wider. 

As if reading his thoughts, she said, “yeah, I’ll probably regret that in the morning.”

He pouted and pointed at the marks already bruising along his collarbone. “Regret kissing me so thoroughly?”

“No! You know what I meant!”

“Sure, sure,” he chuckled and pulled her against his chest. She sighed and melted against him, the events of the night taking their toll and leaving her in an exhausted heap.

He ran his fingers through her hair, gently untangling any knots. His other hand found her waist and he bunched the silky fabric of her dress between his fingers. 

She was half asleep when she murmured, almost too softly for him to hear, “I love you.”

He sent her a smile that might have been mischievous had he not been so tired and drunk. “Prove it.”

She stirred and propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh? What would you have me do, exactly?”

Her tone was all sly and seductive, but it wasn’t quite what he had in mind for her. “Marry me.”

Her expression slacked and she could only stare at him for several seconds. “Wait - really?”

He nodded and patted himself down, looking for… looking for… ah, there. He produced the small box that had been jostling around in his pockets for weeks. He had scoured the internet for a perfect proposal idea, but right now, cozied up in the living room, he couldn’t think of a better moment to ask her.

He carefully pried open the box and showed her the ring inside. He never quite understood the midgardian obsession with flashy, diamond rings, so he’d opted for something more simple. Something he thought would be special to her.

When he met her gaze again, there were tears in her eyes. Long gone was the mischief, and in its place a cocktail of happiness and warmth. 

“Well, darling?”

She broke free of her shock and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Yes - yes, of course!”

  


He clutched it in his fist, his mouth set in a grim line as he watched people come and go from the funeral service. There weren’t many - living as an agent rarely left time for making friends - but those who did attend offered him teary smiles or gentle embraces. It left a sour taste in his mouth. He never cared for pity or false sincerity. Though, he did offer his own pleasantries in return - they were all there for the same reason, after all.

A small part of him felt relieved when Thor arrived, dressed down in black. He allowed himself to shrink when his brother pulled him into a tight hug, allowed the tears he’d been choking down to finally flow. 

When Thor pulled away again, he couldn’t seem to offer Loki any smile as was characteristic of him. Instead, he only watched his little brother somberly, a faraway storm in his eyes.

“The mourning ceremony humans participate in is certainly a bleak one, isn’t it?” He murmured, turning back to take in the living room of the apartment. The furniture had all been stowed away to make room for the guests, and Tony had arranged for massive bouquets of flowers to decorate the space. At the center of it all was Eve’s urn, stationed on the mantel. “Nothing like the feasts on Asgard to celebrate one’s arrival in Valhalla.”

“I think I find this version more fitting.” Loki’s voice is surprisingly level, despite the thickness of his throat. “There is no joy in losing someone so precious to you.” The corner of his lip quirks up, though the action is humorless. “However, I think I’d much rather be drunk on the Allfather’s mead than make conversation with anyone else tonight.”

Thor replies with a dry smirk of his own and proffers a flask from the pocket of his suit. “I may just have something for your ailment, then, brother.”

  


Weeks passed quickly after that, the days blurring by as Loki sat in the apartment. Thinking. Waiting. Holding his breath for what, he wasn’t sure.

One morning, he was up bright and early and packed a suitcase. He took a cab upstate, back to the compound he hadn’t set foot in in months. 

He couldn’t keep sitting around forever.

He stepped into Nick Fury’s office, armed to the teeth for combat. The director only glanced at him from the paperwork he was filling out, sighing through his nose.

“What is it?” he grunted. “Whatever it is you want, I’m sure Coulson or Hill can do it instead.”

Loki straightened his back, refusing to be dismissed by the man before him. When he spoke, he spoke confidently. “I’d like to go back there, to the warehouse where Agent Eve was… compromised. The organization still needs to be dealt with, so a few of the team members and myself could-”

“Enough, Agent.” Fury huffed from behind his desk, finally setting aside his paperwork to look at him. “SHIELD already took care of it weeks ago. Besides, I told you to take some time off from the team.”

He felt himself deflate with the information. All the revenge plots he’d laid awake at night dreaming up, thwarted in an instant. For the last month, it was his plotting, scheming, rage-induced fantasies that held him upright, and now that the opportunity was completely out of his hands he was a puppet cut from it’s strings. 

He excused himself and retired for the night in one of the guest suites of the compound (his old room had long since been emptied), even though it couldn’t be any later than mid-afternoon. He felt much too drained to return to the apartment where her ghost, ever wandering the halls, would only continue to haunt him.

He felt something then, as he laid awake in bed counting the tiles in the ceiling - a dark hole, spreading and eating his chest. The sudden weight of it pressed down on him with such force that he even brought a hand to his sternum, just to be sure his heart was still beating there.

Yes. Yes, it was, and he was still alive. Somehow.

Something dark flitted across his mind and he pulled at the skin there, digging his fingernails in until he felt it scrape and tear. Maybe if he could just pull this beating thing from his chest, he could stop the dark hole from consuming him. He could stop seeing her everywhere he went. He could stop seeing her in the strangers that passed him on the street. He could stop hearing her laughter filtering in from their kitchen.

Because really, his heart only belonged to her and without her here, what use was it to him?

Still, he knew it was madness. What was it she always said to him? _When you’re feeling upset, turn that emotion into something productive._ Perhaps that would be a bit more rational than the ideas he had for solving his hurt.

He pulled himself out of bed and headed off for a shower. After all, it seemed he wouldn’t be getting much sleep here in the compound, either.

He would do something productive, alright. He had something in mind that would be _perfectly_ productive and reasonable. 

  
  


The firearm in his hands felt bulky and strange, nothing like the high-tech weaponry he was accustomed to on his home planet, and even farther from the daggers he favored. Every shot he took seemed to shake his entire arm, but still, he couldn’t deny the sickening satisfaction he took in the gore it left in its wake.

He took another shot, this time aimed for the guard at the door. These Hydra lackeys were easy, almost disappointingly so.

He stormed the entrance once his path had been cleared, finding himself face-to-face with two more guards inside. He reacted faster than they could even draw their guns, shooting one and hitting the other over the head with enough force to render him unconscious. 

“Mind slowing down a little?” a breathless voice called from behind him. “We were supposed to be _sneaking_ in, remember?”

Loki looked back at Clint, who looked about ready to strangle him. 

“You know what they say, ‘a good offense is the best defense.’” He replied, reloading the gun in his hands.

“What? No, that’s not it. It’s ‘the best defense-’”

The sound of shouting voices coming around the corner interrupted the archer. They both stood at the ready to meet them.

“Tomatoes, tom-ah-toes, Hawkeye,” Loki smirked and drew his gun, opening fire once the Hydra soldiers entered his line of sight.

Clint had a point, though, and Loki knew it. He was being excessive - more so than he ever would have in the past on missions. Normally, he relied on intense strategizing, priding himself on knowing the enemy’s next move even before they did. His brother was typically the brawny fighter between them, using his fists before his brain. It was something that he found off-putting and witless, but now, now he felt himself appreciating his style. He craved the feeling of his fists meeting flesh. 

Once they had completed their task of retrieving files and destroying any dangerous weapons they found inside, they departed the base. There was hardly any life left there to stop them, and they made it back to the helicopter in peace. The clean-up crew, comprised of lesser ranked agents, would come through later to tear apart the base completely. 

Loki slumped down into his seat, a groan leaving his lips from the sore state his body was in. This would make his fifth mission this month, and he was definitely feeling it. He had only had one or two nights in between them to rest at the compound, and he could feel both his physical and magical abilities were at their limit.

“Need a nap, princess?” Clint shouted at him over the roaring sound of the helicopter blades as they took off. He had a wide grin on his face - chipper, as always. 

“Quiet, Barton.” 

Clint chuckled and steered the aircraft higher. Where he learned to fly such a thing, Loki had no clue. It seemed the man harbored many hidden talents that Loki was now beginning to uncover with all the time he spent with the Avengers.

They arrived at the compound in record time, and Loki was off to shower and sleep as soon as the debriefing meeting was over. His legs could hardly carry him to the elevator, but he ignored the screaming of his muscles. No need to look as weak as he felt.

The cold water was a relief on his bruised body, and he relished the feeling until his skin began splotching blue. He dried and headed for the kitchen to skim through the pantry. He knew he should feel hungry after running on empty nearly all day, but his appetite had seemingly vanished. He opted for a can of something fizzy and sweet (it claimed to be grape-flavored, but Loki was disappointed to find it tasted like no such thing) and went back to bed.

Thankfully, in his exhausted state, sleep came quickly and deeply.

  


Loki entered Maria Hill’s office bright and early the next morning, dressed and ready in his combat gear. The woman was talking loudly on the phone with someone. What about, he wasn’t sure, but she didn’t look happy.

“No, don’t put me on hold-” she practically growled when the person on the other end disconnected the call. She finally turned to Loki, her expression morphing from don’t-fuck-with-me to slightly amused.

“You look like shit.”

“I beg your pardon?” He scoffed, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“Shit. You look like it,” she droned, as if speaking to a child. “Do you need something? I’m kind of busy here, someone just attempted to assassinate the country’s Secretary of Defense.”

“I actually came here to see if SHIELD has a case I could help with. If you’d like, maybe I can deal with that pesky assassin of yours?” He smiled, aiming to look charming. Maria Hill wasn’t a woman to be trifled with, and he already worried he stepped on a landmine by interrupting such an important call.

Her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you just get back from Toronto? And France before that? I think all you need to do is take a day off, Odinson.”

“I can assure you, I’m perfectly capable of the exertion.” He could assure her of no such thing. He was lying between his teeth, and it sounded insincere even to his own ears. “Otherworldly strength, and all that.”

“Otherworldly strength, my eye. You look about ready to drop.” As she said this, something in her face changed, grew softer. She let out a long sigh and cursed under her breath. “Listen, I know what you’re going through. Eve and I were good friends. I’m sorry about what happened.”

Loki sucks in a breath at the mention of her name - he’d gone without hearing it for weeks now. 

Maria continued before he could say something snide in return to hide his pain, “-But this isn’t a healthy way to grieve. I’ve been in your shoes before, it’s only going to make things worse if you refuse to face it head on.”

The phone beside her rang again, startlingly loud in the somber spell that had fallen over the office. She sighed and turned to look at him. “I have to take this. Go home and get some rest - that’s a direct order.”

She picked up the phone and started carrying on her previous heated discussion, as if she hadn’t been stopped at all. She made a shooing motion at him, breaking him from his melancholy trance.

He shuffled out of the office and made his way to his suite to gather his things. Go home and rest, she said. That apartment hardly felt like home anymore, but the compound wouldn’t be much better. The guest room he slept in felt so hollow and sterile, and he knew he was starting to overstay his welcome, anyway. 

A day off. It was a _direct order_ after all, and his body _was_ reaching its limit. All he needed to do was go home, sleep off some of his soreness, and then he could get right back to work. 

  
  


He stared out the cab window as the scenery shifted outside, the streets becoming more broken down and littered as they neared the apartment. 

_“Doesn’t SHIELD pay you enough not to live in a place like this? You could find something much nicer near the heart of the city on your salary.” He said as he painted broad strokes of green paint in the study, which Eve had deemed his ‘own personal thinking space’ after asking him to move in. His words held no malice, he had simply been curious about it ever since he saw her home on their first date._

_The tune crooning from the radio almost drowned out his voice, and he wasn’t sure she heard him, but then she laughed and said, “Well, sure, but this place is so discreet, it’s perfect for the life of a top-secret agent.”_

_Her eyes warmed and she stared off into a world beyond the four walls around them. “Besides… this is the neighborhood where I grew up. It will always feel like home to me.”_

_He smiled at her and licked his thumb to wipe away a particular persistent smudge of paint on her face. “And you’re sure about letting me stay here? In a place so close to your heart?”_

_She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck, swaying with him to the music. “You should know by now that the thing closest to my heart is you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share this with.”_

Loki clenched his fist hard enough for his nails to bite into the skin of his palm. It suddenly felt as if he couldn’t draw enough air into his lungs as the taxi halted in front of the apartment. Black spots were beginning to form in his vision.

“You gettin’ out? The meters running,” the driver grunted at him. 

“Yes,” he murmured, fishing a wad of cash out of his wallet with shaking hands. He paid the driver and climbed out of the backseat, suddenly feeling like he should have just stayed behind at the compound. Even that sterile, unfeeling guest bedroom would be preferable to _this._

He shouldn’t have come, he thought as he toted his luggage through the front door. He should have insisted he was fine, _begged_ to be sent on another mission. 

He made his way through the living room, refusing to even glance at the mantel. He dropped his things unceremoniously on the floor of the bedroom and sat on the bed. He took a deep breath - held it - and slowly exhaled. His head began to clear and he managed to unclench his fists.

His hands found the bedsheets and he ran his fingers over the fabric until his heart wasn’t racing so dangerously fast. After a few moments, he brought the sheets to his face for an experimental sniff. No, they didn’t even smell like her anymore. 

The thought made his heart wrench and his mind briefly flitted back to the week after she’d died. He was horrified by how quickly the apartment seemed to change in her absence - things he hadn’t even noticed before, like the way she always played some morning talk show on the kitchen television while she made breakfast, how she left clothes strewn about in the bathroom. There were none of those things now. The place was always too quiet, too clean, too empty. On one particularly bad night, he found her bottle of perfume and sprayed the air around the apartment with it, just to trick himself into thinking she was still there. Just for one night.

He wouldn’t do that tonight. He stamped those feelings down and scrubbed his eyes to get rid of the moisture that was quickly collecting there. She’d worked hard to make sure he felt welcome here in this apartment, and it was still his home even after everything. He would spend the night here, and maybe everything would start feeling a little normal again.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he was still dressed in his combat gear and he stood to change. The wardrobe (and just about all of the furniture in the apartment) was covered in a fine layer of dust, but Loki was pleased to find his clothes inside clean and untouched. He pulled on something comfortable for lounging in and left for the kitchen. 

The thought of dinner and a bath sounded almost heavenly to his ears, and for the first time all month he actually set about to cook a full meal. The fridge was bare besides a half-empty carton of milk that Loki didn’t even want to touch, but the pantry still held some non-perishables. Loki laid out the usable ingredients on the counter, sighing at the unimpressive haul. This would be quite the challenge.

Eventually, he decided pancakes would be his best bet. He whisked together the powder mix with water and poured the batter into a hot skillet. The motions felt soothing, and he even started humming as he worked. 

He brought the cakes to a golden brown and reached into the cabinet for a plate, his stomach already growling. He pulled one out and went to serve up his meal, but stilled in his motions.

He stared at the plate in his hands, a cutesy floral design peeking back at him. He and Eve shared a fight over this plate. He wanted to get rid of it since it didn’t match any of their other tableware but she wanted to keep it anyway.

It was a stupid fight, and they both knew it. But, after living together for a few months, the tension which had been bubbling under the surface boiled over, all over a plate. She shouted and rolled her eyes and he spat cruel words, employing his crafty wit to hurt her. She cried in the bathroom with the door locked while he fumed in the study.

Later, they both managed to crawl into bed together after the storm had waned. He couldn’t remember who apologized first - and maybe neither of them had at all - but soon they fell into each other’s arms and slept huddled together to mend their broken spirits.

All of the emotions he’d been stuffing down, not just in this evening but for the last month, suddenly hit him with the force of a train. As he gripped the cheery dish in his hands, his knuckles blanching, he felt like he could scream.

So he did.

He screamed until his throat was hoarse. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to take it all back. All those silly disagreements, all those unkind things he said in a childish fit of rage. He hated it, the guilt that threatened to fill his lungs until he drowned in it. 

He did something then that he instantly regret. The second the plate shattered against the wall, he was on his knees, scooping up the broken porcelain and cradling the pieces to his chest, a stream of apologies spilling from his lips.

For a second, he anticipated light footsteps to come racing down the hallway to find the source of all the commotion. He pictured Eve standing in the doorway breathless, eyes darting over the wreckage in the kitchen before landing on his crumpled form. She’d come rushing to his side, inspecting him for wounds and lifting his face to meet hers. She’d ask him what happened, ask him what was the matter, ask if he was hurt.

But then, his mind managed to catch up to his subconscious and there was nothing. No footsteps, no consoling words. Only silence, completely raw and out of place in their home.

  
  


He ended up sleeping in the study, sprawled out uncomfortably on the dusty floor. He woke up several times and eventually gave up trying before the sun had even risen. He stood up, stretched out the kinks in his limbs, and started perusing the shelves for something to entertain himself with. He found a book on gardening and sat down to read. It certainly wasn’t an interesting topic of study, but it would keep his mind busy for an hour or so.

He finished that one, and the next volume in its series: _Medicinal Uses of Home-Grown Herbs._ He slid the second book back into place on the shelf and grabbed for the third one, but another book slid out and clattered to the floor in his movement. 

He heaved a sigh and bent over to pick it up, cursing at the strain on his sore back. He held it close for inspection - it was a skinny, black volume carved with white runes and perhaps even older than himself. _Habentis Maleficia: Sanguis et Imperium._ It was one of the many reference texts he’d brought with him when he moved in, though he hadn’t so much as skimmed through it in decades.

_Blood magic spells are bound to be a bit of a morbid read_ , he thought, _but it can’t be worse than reading another book about growing vegetables._

To his surprise, most of the spells were less dark than he had imagined. Shaking a few drops of blood over a sick person's head to help them heal, spelling specific runes with blood to strengthen their power. Fairly typical things, all of which he took note of for future reference. Even being as skilled in the art of magic as he was, relearning some basic fundamentals would always be beneficial. 

Towards the end of the volume, the spells began increasing in difficulty and severity. One in particular - some spell involving burning dismembered limbs - left him quickly turning the page as his stomach flipped. To think he’d pilfered this from the palace library in his _adolescence_ to study. 

Perhaps it was that youthfulness that allowed him to stomach such gruesome imagery in books. After all, he hadn’t experienced even half of what he had now. 

As he flipped to the last page of the book, a sheet of paper fell out of its place tucked inside. For a brief, heart-shattering moment, he believed it to be a note from Eve. It didn’t have to be much, just a small note. A small reminder of her presence. A reminder that she really had, in fact, lived here with him.

But no, it wasn’t a letter from Eve. He held it close to read and found his own handwriting staring back at him, evidently a sheet of notes he’d taken long ago while studying the text and jammed between the last pages of the book.

_“Can blood magic resurrect the dead?”_ The header read.

He frowned as his eyes skimmed the page. Ah, he remembered this now. During the course of his study into blood spells, Asgard was in the throes of war with Muspelheim and, for once, losing by a considerable margin.

He poured over this book, and others like it, for hours at a time in his room, working on a spell of his own to help their cause. He wanted so desperately to prove to his father that magic could be incredibly useful in battle. The closest the Einherjar ever got to utilizing it was with their healers, but Loki knew better. He knew magic could be the one thing powerful enough to shift the tide of the entire battle. 

He presented his plan to the Allfather with great pride: employ the power of blood magic to resurrect the army of dead soldiers buried beneath the palace - those who were sealed away long ago in honor of their bravery in protecting the throne of Asgard - and use the undead army to gain the upper hand on the fire giants.

His father was displeased. Revolted, even, at the notion of dragging up the dead with some necromancy spell his son had concocted. He sent him away and forbade him from leaving his chambers until the worst of the war had passed. He wouldn’t even allow him to help with a sword and shield, insisting that he needed some time in isolation to dispel these mad ideas he had come up with.

_Perhaps it was madness,_ he thought as he read the spell his younger self had devised. Even if this plan had worked, which it certainly would not have, a spell like this would require a dozen sorcerers at least. And in his egotism, he probably thought he could handle it all on his own. 

It wouldn’t work… but, Loki grabbed a pen and tweaked some of the mistakes on the page anyway. Raising the dead is a nearly impossible task, even to the most advanced sorcerer. Still… he corrected some of the runes and scribbled out a few lines anyway. Just to see what it would look like a little more polished.

He reread the spell and sighed, tossing the book away on the floor. No, it still wasn’t right. What _was_ madness was working away at it, even though he knew it was completely useless.

He stretched and started for the shower to clear his thoughts. 

  
  


_Can blood magic resurrect the dead?_

That phrase filtered through his mind, and he snapped his eyes open, his dream already fading away as he stirred from a midday nap. He sat up on the bed and stretched his arms over his head. He was surprisingly alert after such a long nap, but he supposed that’s what his body really needed after little to no sleep the night prior. 

He hadn’t been able to get that spell out of his mind all day, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. Was he simply restless after leaving it unfinished in the study? Probably. 

It must have been nagging at him bad for it to have woken him from his sleep. He fixed a mug of tea and returned to the study, this time pulling out a different textbook to use as a cross-reference. He found the notes on the floor and continued working away at them, altering runes and marking down strengthening herbs to aid the spell. He bookmarked a page to reference later and pulled a different book out of the shelf to check something. No, not that one. He pulled a different book, one so heavy he almost lost his balance, and skimmed through it. He jotted down a few notes in the margins of the spell and pressed the pen to his lips as he went over everything once more.

It was actually beginning to look promising. It was certainly far from the crude skeleton of a spell he wrote as an inexperienced teenager, just… missing something. 

The spell would take quite a bit of energy on it’s own, maybe even more he was capable of himself, but it needed something else. Some kind of boost. Perhaps a flame? It would have to be something very powerful, though, so maybe not that.

He sighed and carried his materials with him to the kitchen. His mug had been emptied an hour ago, and he started boiling another kettle. He rested his hands on the counter as he waited, taking in a deep breath. This spell had been keeping him distracted for nearly the whole day, and he counted himself lucky for it. He felt rested and sharp for the first time in ages, and he could even sense the breeze swaying outside when he closed his eyes and focused.

It had been a long time since he’d been able to sense his surroundings much at all.

There was something else amidst the breeze, a looming, heavy air that choked the summer sky. It put him on edge and he deepened his focus. He could almost picture it, the dark clouds rolling in overhead. He could taste the thick humidity on his tongue as the first few drops of rain fell. 

The kettle shrieked and Loki nearly screamed along with it. He snapped his eyes open, a snort leaving him when he realized he was startled by something so mundane. He poured his drink and walked back to the table, letting the heat of the mug singe his fingers.

In a flash, the kitchen was illuminated with white light. Not a moment later, thunder followed, loud enough to drown everything else out. Loki nearly shook with it - he hadn’t heard it so close before while living in this little corner of New York. 

The noise passed and Loki sipped his drink, letting the heat of it warm him. Suddenly, an idea struck him and he almost dropped the mug in his haste to find his pen and paper.

_Lightning!_ Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner?

The spell needed a boost, something to jumpstart the resurrection process. It had been staring him right in the face.

He scribbled down this new addition and leaned back to appraise his handiwork. Now _this_ could actually work. 

He closed his texts and leaned back in his chair, letting a smug smile dare to settle on his features. Although, he didn’t feel quite satisfied _yet._ There was still something nagging at him, some piece of the puzzle he wasn’t connecting. He’d completed it, hadn’t he? He had created a spell to bring back the dead, something nigh impossible to most seidr-bearers, and yet he didn’t feel quite pleased. 

Deciding the best solution may just be some fresh air after long hours of being cooped up in the study, Loki pulled on his shoes and made for the door despite the pouring rain outside. 

_This place is making me restless, I just need to clear my head._ He concluded with a nod to himself. A short walk would suffice. Maybe he could visit the cafe a few blocks away.

He crossed the living room on his way to the front door. Something caught his eye along the way and gave him pause - fractals of blue light bouncing off of the walls. He turned, spotted the culprit on the mantel and felt as if all the air had suddenly been punched from his lungs.

Somehow, through the dense cloud cover, a ray of light managed to find its way through the living room window. It hit the colorful glass decorating the lid of Eve’s urn, scattering light around the room. 

_Oh._

He approached the mantel slowly, as if the thing would jump out and bite him if he wasn’t careful. He placed a hand on the urn, brushing away the dust collecting there. He hadn’t touched it since bringing it to the apartment to begin with, too afraid to acknowledge its existence.

_Can blood magic resurrect the dead?_

His lungs felt stuck, too thick to breathe. The sound of the rain was drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. 

It made sense now. That nagging in the back of his mind. Why he was so set on finishing the spell he started long ago. Perhaps it had always been for this moment, not for any cause of Asgard but for the woman he was destined to love. 

It would be difficult - that much he knew already. And it was completely unprecedented. And unsafe. And he’d be a fool to even try it.

_Can blood magic resurrect the dead?_

It was so unfair, after all. Her life had ended before it had really even begun. She was young. She had a family. She had him.

They were going to get married. They had their entire future ahead of them. He knew there was always a risk when she went to work, but he hadn’t expected something to happen to her so… so _suddenly._

It always seemed to him that he could never get close enough to real happiness. Just when he was of age to inherit the throne, after everything he had done to prepare to take on the burden of a kingdom, he discovered he was never destined to rule to begin with.

Just when he thought he discovered true power, the hand dangling it above him wrapped around his throat. He was tortured. Punished for his failure to conquer Earth. Exiled. 

After that, no one wanted anything to do with him, and he couldn’t blame them. But then there was Eve. Always with a smile for him, always with an ear to listen to him. She gave him more love than he ever deserved, but it was _his._ It was the only true thing he had and he wanted nothing more.

And then she was gone.

The Norns were laughing. Mocking his tragic fate. He wouldn’t take it any longer; he would reclaim that happiness that was rightfully his, and there was nothing to stop him now. He would give her back her life that was so cruelly ripped away.

He would do it. He would rip her soul straight from the clutches of Hel himself, fate be damned.

  
  
  


“You’re planning to do _what?_ Do you realize how absolutely _asinine_ that sounds?” 

Stephen Strange crossed his arms as he stared Loki down, looking at him as if he had grown a second head. They sat across from each other in (surprisingly comfortable) armchairs in the Sanctum. Loki, despite having more desire to gouge his own eyes out than ask for help from the narcissist who ran this place, showed up on the doorstep and presented his plan to the doctor. 

Strange almost seemed to know what he wanted before he even asked, as if he’d been predicting something like this since Eve’s death. Still, he openly gawked at the idea, probably thinking Loki wasn’t actually crazy enough to propose such a thing.

“Will you help me or not? This spell is highly difficult, after all.” He nearly choked on the words as he said them. He wished there was someone else, literally anyone else, he could ask to assist him with this, but he knew Strange would be his only hope with the magic he possessed. 

Strange continued to stare at him in disbelief. “I thought you were insane before but now… you’re _unhinged._ ” 

With his words, Loki suddenly felt much like his younger self again, staring into the eyes of the Allfather as he presented his spell.

_You’ve gone mad!_

“Will you help me or not,” Loki restated, his voice as sharp as a razor. “I won’t keep wasting my time here if you’re just going to tell me things I already know.”

“Loki, bringing back the dead isn’t as simple as you think. Even if you manage to do it, you aren’t going to get your fiance back. It’s incredibly dangerous and _stupid._ So, no. I won’t have any part in that.”

Loki slowly pried his fingers away from the chair, which he belatedly realized had been digging into the leather arms hard enough to leave dents. He stood, straightened his blazer, and made for the door.

“Loki.”

He turned, fixing the doctor with an icy glare. 

“If I had it my way, you would be banished far, far away from this planet. SHIELD might not let me touch you, but if you go through with this, and I sincerely hope you don’t, they can’t stop me from sending whatever monster you resurrect back to hell.”

Loki inhaled sharply, narrowing his eyes even further at him. “I’ve been playing nice with you up until now, Strange. If you lay a hand on her when I’m finished, you might make me do something I’ll regret.”

Strange flashed him a smirk. With a flippant wave of his hand, a glowing ring opened under Loki’s feet and sent him crashing through onto the pavement outside the Sanctum.

Growling loud enough to draw the attention of a few people walking the streets, he picked himself up and straightened his clothes. Fine. He’d do it alone. 

Well, not completely alone. There was still one other person he needed to talk to.

  
  
  


“You came.” It sounded more like a question than a statement, a hint of surprise coloring Loki’s words.

Thor crossed the grassy field to join him, his mouth set in a grim line. “Aye. I owe you a favor or two, as you’re wont to remind me.”

He kneeled before the urn stationed on a bare patch of land, paying his respects. He looked back at Loki, a somber smile forming on his face. “It isn’t really for you, though. You know she was like a sister to me.”

“I know.”

Thor stood, walking back to join Loki’s side. Dark clouds rolled in overhead, intruding the once clear sky. “You sure this will work?”

Loki chuckled and pulled the spell book out of the bag of material’s he’d brought for their excursion. “No.”

He began laying out a ring of herbs and stones. He didn’t know how useful they would actually be in strengthening the spell, but he would use all he could get at this point. Lastly, he shook out the ashes into the center, being careful not to lose anything to the wind, and sliced his palm open with his dagger, shaking a steady stream of droplets onto the pile.

Thor grimaced at the sight, but didn’t speak. They both retreated to a careful distance and Loki began reciting the incantation.

Only a few lines in, he could feel the effect. The ground shook beneath them, if only slightly, and he could sense something shift and snap in the air. All of the white noise from the woodland creatures died away and the wind ceased altogether. 

He was burning. His vision was almost completely whited out and his hands were shaking uncontrollably with the unseen force of it. By the time he finished the verse, he was nearly shouting.

“Now!”

Thor didn’t hesitate. As soon as he heard the signal, he thrust Mjolnir to the sky, and lightning split the world before them. The thunder was almost immediate, and loud enough to send Loki’s teeth chattering.

When the blindingly light faded, Loki’s eyes darted to the ashes on the ground. At first, it appeared as if nothing had happened, and he felt his shoulders sag. Then, a moment later, the pile erupted into flames with brilliant colors.

He and Thor rushed to the spot to inspect the fire of blues and greens and reds. 

  


There she was.

  


Eve stood from the flames, wobbling on unsteady legs. She straightened to full height, wiping ash and fire from her naked limbs like nothing more than lint. Her hair was alight with the colors of her fire and her eyes flashing.

_It worked. Gods, it actually worked._

Loki felt a smile overtake his face as he watched her, tears spilling over his cheeks. He did it. He really did it.

And then she started screaming.

The two of them flinched at the sound of her agonized wailing. She wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, screaming so loudly she started to gag on her own voice.

Loki stepped forward to pull her from the fire that still engulfed her body, when his vision blackened. The spell had stolen every last bit of energy he had, and the last thing he heard before crashing to the ground was Eve sobbing his name. 

  



	3. III

When Loki came to again, the world was dark. Something cool pressed against his forehead, causing beads of water to run down the grooves of his face.

He tried to move but found his body to be completely immobile. Panic coursed through his veins icy cold, and he tried again, harder this time.

Nothing.

He sucked in as much air as his paralyzed chest would allow to calm himself. He focused on his eyes first, working through the hazy cloud that was his motor cortex to move the fine muscles there.

Gradually, he pushed through the cloud, and his vision was flooded with light as he pried his eyelids open. He blinked them sluggishly - relieved by even such a simple motion - to adjust to the sensory onslaught. 

He thought he must be bound to be so incapable of movement, but to his surprise, his body was free. He managed to crane his neck to look around and found himself in bed -  _ his  _ bed - back at the apartment. 

The living room table had been dragged in beside him and was covered in supplies. A first aid kit, a bowl of ice water, bandages and (to his mild horror) a few syringes.

_ What in all the realms…? _

Then, the door swung open from across the room and Eve dropped the book she’d been carrying with a sharp “ _ oh!” _

_ A dream then,  _ Loki concluded and resigned himself to slumping back against the pillows.  _ A weird, terrifying dream. _

At least Eve was with him and  _ alive.  _ His subconscious is rarely so charitable. 

“I didn’t know you woke up, I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she blurted as she rushed to his side, her fingers coming up to brush his face as she inspected him. She pulled a damp cloth from his head and placed it back into the bowl beside the bed “How are you feeling? I can get you something for the pain.”

For a dream, her fingers felt strangely soft against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut as he relished the sensation.

“Can’t move,” he croaked, shocked by the rawness of his throat. 

Her lips quirked up in a half-smile. “That might be expected, after all the magic you used. I’m sure it’s no small feat to bring back the dead.”

Loki did sit up then, almost fast enough to crash his head into hers. The action instantly sent him reeling and he felt her hands steady his shoulders.

“Woah, easy there tiger!”

_ “You’re alive!”  _ the words came out in a gasp as the memory came flooding back to him. He and Thor spreading out her ashes and performing the spell. Eve rising from the earth like a phoenix in legends of old.  _ Not a dream, not a dream, not a dream- _

“Loki, you need to lie back down, you’re white as a sheet!” Eve pushed him gently back against the pillows, cursing under her breath. “I  _ told  _ Thor we needed to get you to a hospital.”

“Is he here?” There were some questions Loki really needed to ask him.

She shook her head. “Not right now, but he’ll probably be back soon. He’s been in and out to check on you and bring… this stuff,” she scrunched her nose and held up a dark vial. “He said it would help you, but it smells like sewage.”

Loki couldn’t hold back a small laugh, despite the soreness of his abdomen when he did so. “It’s a mugwort-ashwagandha concoction. It’s common on Asgard, I’m sure that’s where he… hold on, have you been  _ injecting  _ me with that?”

She paled. “Er, yes? Was I not supposed to?”

“It’s administered through the skin, like an oil. Didn’t Thor tell you that?”

“No!” she cried, giving the vial an accusatory look. “I just figured- well, you were unconscious so I thought-”

“It’s alright,” he sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’ll be fine. How long have I been out, then?”

She shrugged. “A few days… I think. I haven’t been paying all that much attention. When Thor explained what happened it was… a lot to process.”

He frowned and reached out to place his hand over hers (the effort of such a simple action still irking him). “I’m sorry I wasn’t awake to tell you myself. I know it’s a lot, and it will take some adjustment, for sure.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled and squeezed his hand. “That’s for sure. For now, though, let’s focus on getting you better. Think you can try sitting up to eat?”

_____________________

  
  
  


Thor came by the next afternoon, bearing more healing oil and groceries, as the refrigerator was pitifully empty. The moment he saw Loki and Eve standing in the kitchen, he raced over and pulled them both into a bone-crushing embrace.

“Loki! You’re alright!” There were tears in his eyes as he spoke, a thickness coating his words.

“I won’t be for long if you do not release me.” He had meant it to sound playful, but all he could manage was a wheeze.

Thor promptly released them, and they both slouched in relief. “Right! Sorry. How are you feeling? Both of you, I mean.”

“Better,” Loki said as he brushed himself off. He sent Eve a smile and added, “with the help of my lovely healer, that is.”

Her cheeks went pink. “Oh please, I think I did more harm than good, what with injecting you with the mugwort-whatever. I probably almost killed you.”

He barked out a laugh. “Nonsense! I am a god, after all, darling.”

“Trust me, lady, killing my brother is no easy task.” Thor shot Loki a look that was full of both ire and admiration in equal measure. Loki only grinned in return.

“Oh! And these are for you,” He placed his bags on the table. “I’m sure neither of you are quite suited for errands, yet.”

“Actually,” Eve spoke, pulling a pear from a bag and running her fingers over the delicate skin. “I’m feeling alright, all things considered. Like I never left, really.”

Thor beamed. “Truly?”

She couldn’t quite seem to match his enthusiasm. She stared at the fruit in her hand for a moment, her eyelids lowered over unseeing eyes. Loki watched as she sunk her fingernails into the skin and a bead of juice ran down her fingers.

“Mm-hmm.” She turned back to look at the two brothers before her, her smile wide and sunny as if it hadn’t left her face at all. “I’m really happy. I don’t even know how to thank you both.”

“There’s no need to thank us,” Thor laughed, sounding baffled by the very notion. “All you need to do now is to enjoy your life. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“It is,” Loki said, breaking free from his quiet spell. “All I wanted was to give you another chance. I’d do it all again if I had to. Mugwort injections, and all.”

She broke into laughter and pulled him down to kiss his cheek. “Well, thank you. Really.”

  
  


Thor departed after another embrace - less suffocating than the last, thankfully - promising to visit again soon. Loki was relieved for it, in a small sense. He was still struggling to regain his energy (he had barely managed to stand up from the bed that morning) and the interaction left him exhausted and folded up on the couch.

Eve joined him there, presenting him a bowl of pear slices with a bow. “For the prince,” she smirked.

He grinned and took the bowl, but set it aside in favor of pulling her onto his lap. She yelped in surprise and cast him an exasperated glare.

“Loki, you’re injured-”

“Come now darling, let me have my fun,” he pouted - an expression he knew she couldn’t refuse. 

As expected, she rolled her eyes and huffed but relaxed against him nonetheless. She traced her fingernails over his chest in swirling patterns, drawing a content sigh from him.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in her scalp, breathing in the crisp scent of her shampoo. “I’ve missed this.”

She shifted, fitting her head in the hollow of his throat. She splayed a hand over her sternum, feeling his heartbeat. “So did I.”

Loki untangled his arm from her and reached into his pocket, producing her engagement band. When she spied it in his hand, her jaw dropped.

“You kept my ring?”

“Of course,” he murmured, taking her hand to slip it back on her finger. “I’m sorry, I should have returned it to you sooner. It didn’t cross my mind.”

“That’s alright,” she grinned, staring down at the emerald stone. “I’m really glad it wasn’t destroyed, too.”

“Heaven forbid, I’d have to spoil you with troves of new jewelry to make up for the loss.” He smirked at her, taking her hand in his.

She scoffed. “But this one is special! It wouldn’t be the same.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

She squeezed his hand and returned to her previous position against his neck. “This feels sort of familiar, huh?”

He chuckled and hummed in agreement. He tangled his hands in her hair and closed his eyes, content with staying in that position forever.

_____________________

  
  
  


In the dead of night, it was Eve’s screaming that woke Loki.

She thrashed in her sleep, kicking and crying and howling for someone to help her. The first night it happened, he jolted awake with the way it started so abruptly, startling him out of whatever dream he’d been having. His gentle pleading for her to wake up quickly turned to shouting and he pinned her arms to her sides so she wouldn’t hurt herself. 

Eventually, she seemed to come to, and then the sobbing started. Her eyes searched in the darkness in a crazed, hazy way as tears streamed down her cheeks. Loki pressed his forehead to hers and whispered reassuring words until she managed to calm down, his own heart beating out of his chest the entire time.

It went on like that for a week before Loki finally resorted to magic. He slept lightly, if at all, for a few hours before her night terrors began. He managed to find a pattern to warn him, at least - she would become restless, turning onto one side, and then the other. She would start whimpering after that, and before it could get any worse, Loki would press two fingers to her face to break her free from whatever fears had gripped her subconscious that night.

He felt terribly guilty about it, even though he only meant to help. She never remembered her fits afterward, anyway, and she wouldn’t be any wiser of his influence. Somehow, though, that made it worse for him. Like he was hiding something from her.

The night terrors stretched on for three weeks before he finally broke down and told her, his voice filled with remorse and dread as he revealed his tampering with her mind. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she only kissed him and thanked him for it instead of being upset. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was, and he felt his eyes fill with tears as he kissed her back.

The sleepless nights were beginning to wear on him, she could tell, so Eve insisted on him using his magic on her mind before bed, in the hope that it would stop the problem before it even began, so he could sleep easier as well.

That worked, and she slept peacefully. For a time.

  
  


One day, she seemed completely agitated. She burned breakfast, but Loki insisted it was still edible and brought her to the table to eat. She fiddled with her shirt sleeves all through their meal, hardly touching her own plate the entire time. 

A short while after retreating to the study for the afternoon, Loki was startled out of his reading at the sound of something heavy crashing into the floor somewhere inside the apartment. He dropped his book and raced towards the sound as fast as his legs could carry him, only to find Eve standing over a broken chair in the dining room.

“Sorry,” she breathed without looking up at him. “I knocked it over on accident.”

The chair was splintered in multiple places, chunks of wood scattered around the room from the sheer force she must have used to throw it to the ground. Loki narrowed his eyes but decided against acknowledging her lie. Instead, he retrieved a broom and set to sweeping up the pieces.

“It’s alright. It was an accident.”

She didn’t respond or even offer to help him clean up. She simply stalked out of the room, bumping his shoulder as she passed by. Their bedroom door slammed closed behind her, and Loki was left with the mess, his mind a frenzy as he tried to figure out what he must have done to upset her so.

At night, he leaned over her to place his hand on her cheek, but she flinched.

He felt his expression slack. “What have I done, Eve?”

“Nothing,” came her terse reply, her eyes cold and unfeeling.

He reached out again. She didn’t pull away this time, and he connected his fingers with her cheek. As the magic took effect, her eyelids drooped and her frown softened. He coaxed her under the blankets and molded himself against her back, trying to push his racing thoughts away so he could rest.

His mind was unrelenting. He must have done something. They hadn’t left the apartment in days, and he was the only one she’s been in contact with. He must have said something to upset her. He would ask her tomorrow; he couldn’t take this sudden aggression from her, so uncharacteristic from her usual, compassionate self.

Even when he was an utter ass to her, she didn’t act out like this. Though he knows he’s deserved her malice on more than one occasion, she’s slow to give it to him. And now… now he can’t even imagine what awful thing he must have done to earn this treatment.

Although his mind was swimming, he must have dozed off at some point, because he woke with her hands wrapped around his throat and her screaming in his ears.

He forced his bleary eyes to focus. Adrenaline began pouring through his veins, and he struggled to draw in any air to fill his lungs. He fumbled for her wrists, and managed to pry them off his neck after an agonizing minute of suffocation.

He pushed her away as he sat up, wheezing and coughing as he filled his lungs. She must have broken free from her night terror in the struggle because she sat and watched him as she shook in realization and horror.

“I’m sorry Loki,” she hiccuped, wrapping her arms around herself.

“S’alright,” he breathed, his voice weak and slurred. “It was an accident.”

He held her tight after that until she fell back asleep. Loki stayed awake for the rest of the night, staring at the ceiling as dread coiled within him.

The following morning, Eve was up bright and early, fixing breakfast and humming to herself as Loki entered the kitchen. Her smile was warm and friendly as she slid a plate of pancakes in front of him, but faltered when she saw the distraught expression on his face. 

“Loki?” She gasped, brushing her fingers over the bruising on his neck. “ _ What happened? _ ”

_____________________

  
  


During the month following the resurrection, a period of time which both Loki and Eve had deemed a necessary R&R Session from work, a blanket of tension had seemed to fall over the apartment.

Most mornings, they lounged about the house or fooled around in various locations, and that tension took a backseat for a while. Waiting. Watching.

And then, as if a switch was flipped, the air was suddenly thick with it. Eve would resign herself to the bedroom or the patio and stare into nothingness for hours. Loki quickly learned that (like with what he had deemed the ‘smashed chair day’) Eve didn’t like to be touched those days. She didn’t really even like to talk. 

When at first these days were few and far between, by the end of the month they were constant.

It was a slow, sweet kind of torture, Loki realized one day as he woke up to the space beside him cold and empty. The love of his life was living and breathing again, but now it seemed his own presence was enough to make herself scarce from him. He had her back, but now she was behind some invisible wall, just out of reach.

He stared at that empty space, his racing thoughts stilling and becoming disturbingly quiet and dull until he swore he felt nothing at all.

The sound of the front door opening and closing snapped him out of his stupor and he sluggishly pried himself from the bedsheets. He pulled on a shirt before leaving the bedroom, steeling himself for whatever version of his fiance he’d be greeting today.

Today, she was quiet. Reverent, even, as she sat on the couch and cradled a vase in her hands.

No, not a vase. _Her_ _own urn._

Loki jolted at the sight and came rushing to her side. “Eve, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find that-”

“It’s alright,” she hushed him, her voice surprisingly soft and level. “I know you didn’t. I went looking for it myself.”

He felt his back go rod-straight as he stared at her. That simple object, decorated beautifully with glass, had been at the center of so much pain for him. Even now, the sight of it was enough to fill him with anguish. When he spoke again, his voice was much harsher than he meant for it to be. 

“ _ Why? _ ”

She flinched at his tone and turned confused eyes to him. “Are you angry with me?”

He sucked in a breath and turned his gaze to the floor, lacing and unlacing his fingers. “No. No, I’m sorry.”

After a beat of silence, she pressed on in a murmur, “I just had to see it, y’know? I just needed proof that I really did die and come back. I keep having these nightmares, and I feel like with each one I’m a little less sure of what’s real and what’s not.”

He whispered her name, the revelation sinking like a stone in his stomach. He tore his eyes from the floor and shifted his gaze to her to find tears racing down her cheeks and pooling under her chin. 

“Why are you crying?”

She touched her cheek, staring at the moisture on her fingers. “...I’m not sure. I guess I’m just happy. Not everyone gets a second chance at living, after all.” 

She smiled at him, but there was something hollow in the gesture. He reached a hand out to touch her, but thought better of it and let it fall back into his lap. She turned away from him and sobbed.

_____________________

  
  


“Brother, she isn’t well.”

Thor spoke in a hushed tone, hoping Eve was out of earshot from her position in the kitchen. He watched her as she stood over the stove, humming as she stirred a pan of meat. When he looked at Loki again, his expression was somber, lids half-closed over his eyes and his brow knitted tightly. 

Loki took his time answering, averting his gaze to the couch cushion where he pulled at a loose thread. “I know.”

“How long?”

“Weeks.”

Thor pulled in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Loki didn’t have an answer to that. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t handle this on his own, but how desperately he wanted to. How desperately he wanted things to be just as they were before. Somehow, he felt as if asking for help would acknowledge the growing problem that he was sure would mend itself eventually.

Instead, he told his brother, “she found her urn the other day. At first, she didn’t seem bothered at all by it.”

Thor snapped his gaze back to him, a frown on his lips. “But?”

“But then,” Loki smiled and snapped the thread between his fingers, “She started crying. She took it outside and smashed it on the pavement. I couldn’t console her; she screamed at me when I tried to touch her.”

Thor couldn’t help a small gasp at that. He could tell something was wrong the second he arrived, but to that extent-

Loki took in his bewildered expression and burst into a fit of laughter, which sounded more manic than merry. He couldn’t seem to stop it. There wasn’t much else he could do anymore but laugh at the horror of the situation.

“Loki-”

“What’s got you in stitches?” Eve asked from the doorway, causing both men to immediately quiet. Her smirk faltered as she took in the mortified expression twinning both their faces. “Oh, sorry… secret brother inside joke?”

Loki recovered faster, plastering on a fake smile. “Unfortunately so, dear. I think it would take us hours to explain it to you.”

She snorted and turned back towards the kitchen. “Well, we don’t have time for that. Dinner will be ready in five.”

“Thank you,” Thor beamed, having reanimated at some point while Loki stalled. The second she was gone, he returned to his murmured tone. “You can’t keep her cooped up here, brother. I’m sure all she needs is some room to breathe.”

“What do you mean? We do leave the house for errands, it doesn’t seem to do any good.”

Thor sighed, giving him a look that seemed to speak a thousand apologies. “She should get back to work. Return to her normal routine.”

Loki tensed, his eyes blowing wide. “Are you crazy?”

Thor chuckled, though the mirth didn’t quite touch his eyes. “No, brother. You know it as well as I do that she must return to her life at some point.”

“This is her life!” his whispered tone had shifted to a hiss. “What do you think will happen if she goes into the line of fire again? I can’t lose her again, Thor!”

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen-”

“Oh, like how you didn’t let it happen the first time?”

Thor went still at his words, the venom behind them cutting deep enough to stun him to silence. He opened and shut his mouth, his eyes narrowing as anger visibly shook him.

Eve’s call for dinner cut off whatever he was about to say. She poked her head back into the living room and frowned when she saw the tension brewing between the two men. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, I think we’re done here,” Thor said as he stood from the couch, his tone unnervingly calm. “I apologize, my lady, but I think I must leave.”

“Aw, no!” She cried, “You didn’t get to try my beef bourguignon!”

He smiled softly and wrapped her into a hug. “I truly am sorry. I promise to try it another time, alright?”

Loki and Eve sent Thor off with a wave before returning to the kitchen. His blood was still sizzling as he cut into his serving, the force of his grip tight enough to bend his fork.

“Woah, you alright?” Eve asked from across the table, her face twisted in concern. “Did you two have an argument?”

“Something like that.”

She sipped from a glass of wine, eyeing him warily. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t believe you’d find it interesting,” he answered shortly, clearing his plate in record time. He thanked her for the meal and left for the study, leaving her staring after him with a worried expression. 

_____________________

  
  


Eve stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, tugging at the material of her SHIELD uniform in an effort to get it to lay more flat against her form. The uniform she favored for missions had been destroyed, but she always had this spare in the back of her closet. It didn’t seem to fit quite like she remembered, and it bagged around her body in a way she found unflattering.

Loki watched her from the edge of the bathtub, his shoulders tensed as he waited for some sort of explosive reaction from her. He hadn’t expected her only complaint to be that she didn’t find herself attractive in her old clothing.

He wanted to tell her right then that he thought she looked gorgeous in anything she wore. He wanted to tell her that in days long passed, the sight of her in her combat gear reminded him of a Valkyrie warrior, and he felt himself grow weak in the knees every time she wore it. Instead, through the dread twisting and turning his insides, all he could manage to do was remind her that they were going to be late if they stalled any longer.

He had been so ready for her to agree with him about the danger of returning to work, but to his shock, she seemed almost eager. Perhaps Thor had been correct in asserting she needed to return to a regular lifestyle again. 

Fury had been made aware of Eve’s current condition weeks ago, and while the information of her resurrection seemed to surprise him, he wasn’t particularly fazed. He swore and mumbled something about  _ crazy alien magic  _ over the phone before telling him that SHIELD would be keeping tabs on the two of them. Loki hadn’t expected anything less, really.

Apparently, the director had also taken Thor’s side on the matter of her coming back on the team. “About time you two dragged your asses back here,” Fury said as they walked into his office an hour later. Loki swore he saw a grin tugging his lips, but it was gone almost immediately.

“Director,” Eve greeted him professionally with a dip of her head. “I apologize for my absence from the field.”

Fury did chuckle then, shaking his head. “Can’t really hold dying against you, now can I?”

Loki barely caught the minute tensing of her shoulders before she relaxed back into her smile. “Probably not. Can I get workers comp for that, though?”

Fury crossed his arms and leaned back, fighting another smile on his lips. “I’m not sure, SHIELD’s never had a case like this. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I was kidding!” She scoffed. “We aren’t here for that, anyway. I wanna -  _ we -  _ want to get back to work. How’s the team?”

The director sighed and shifted back into his neutral expression. “Honestly? Exhausted. Stretched too thin. We’re more short-staffed than ever, but it seems like the world out there just gets worse every day.”

Eve looked back at Loki, who had been watching the interaction quietly, and laced her fingers with his. The simple action had him holding his breath and aching after the latest week from hell.

“Well, you’ve got two more agents right here. Where do you need us?”

Fury eyed them for a moment more before digging through a stack of files on his desk. He pulled out a nondescript flash drive from between some pages and passed it over to her. “Take some time to get settled in tonight, I’ll need you both in Nova Scotia by tomorrow morning. I’ll talk to Barnes about going with you too, it won’t be an easy mission. Especially with you two pretty out of practice.”

“Recon?”

“No,” he shook his head, gesturing towards the file in her hands. “The groundwork has all been taken care of, and all the information we have is on that drive. The map will lead you to a big underground warehouse. It’s under constant surveillance and heavily guarded at all times. A few of our agents managed to get a few pictures inside; it looks like mutant experimentation.”

Loki let out a low whistle while Eve cursed. “I don’t mean to question your judgment, director, but this feels like  _ quite _ the operation,” he said. “With only the three of us-”

“Look, I know it isn’t ideal,” Fury sighed, giving him a look that was considerably less friendly than the one he had aimed at Eve. “But as I said, we’re short-staffed. Romanov only got back yesterday from a month-long con in England and the rest of the Avengers - the ones who aren’t retired, anyway - are set for a mission in South America two days from now.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Eve mumbled, frowning. She looked up at Loki, searching his face. “We can handle it, though, right?” 

He gave a tight smile, knowing that digging his heels in any further would get him nowhere. Worse yet - Fury could decide against letting him go with Eve altogether. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Yes. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

  
  


The two of them departed for their guest room at the tower to deposit their things, but not without drawing the eyes of several agents along the way. One man outright pointed at Eve while whispering something to his colleague, but she ignored it all as she strode down the hallway with confidence, her chin held high. Loki did his best to mimic her attitude.

Once they entered the quiet residential levels of the compound, she blew out a breath and let her shoulders sag. 

“That’s going to take some getting used to, I guess,” she mumbled, sending a smile Loki’s way.

He returned it with his own smile, albeit strained. “Don’t mind them, they’ll be used to seeing you around again soon enough.”

As they were crossing the main threshold to enter another set of elevators, Eve opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by the abrupt and loud shattering of glass in the kitchen.

Both Loki and Eve swiveled at the noise, meeting the wide eyes of Steve Rogers in the kitchen, gaping at them openly. A glass lay shattered at his feet, though he seemed too shocked to move to pick it up. 

“Hey Steve,” Eve ventured, raising her hands placatingly. “Good to see you again…?”

“So I guess the rumors are true, then?” another voice arose from the adjacent dining area. Natasha Romanov slinked in, silent and graceful with her arms crossed over her chest. Her expression was cold and calculating, giving nothing away of her true emotions. “You’re really back?”

Eve nodded and smiled warmly at the woman. “I missed you too, Nat.”

Natasha’s cool exterior cracked and she returned the smile, crossing the room quickly to envelop Eve in a hug. “It’s good to have you back,” she said, her voice muffled from the embrace.

“Wait- you knew?” Steve cried, betrayal evident in his voice. “How long… am I the only one who didn’t know Eve was _ alive _ ?”

Natasha pulled back to give him a chiding look. “Relax, cap. Shouldn’t you be used to this kind of thing by now?”

Steve only replied by giving her a glare of his own before stepping around to embrace Eve. “You should have called. It’s been way too quiet around here without you.”

Eve apologized and Loki caught sight of tears in her eyes. With the way the team tends to treat him, he had forgotten how close she was to the rest of them. Perhaps this reunion was long overdue. 

After some brief chatting and promises to catch up, Eve and Loki continued their trek to their suite. They made quick work of changing into their gear and reading through the mission materials, hardly speaking at all. 

Loki could feel his fear of the upcoming task threatening to boil over but he didn’t dare utter a word about it. She clearly wanted this, and he couldn’t keep standing in her way forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be three parts, but this chapter was starting to get very long so I had to cut it. 
> 
> Also, sorry for the long wait. Last semester just kicked my ass.


End file.
